


Slug Tracks

by regionals



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Absent Parents, Angst, Coming of Age, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Period Typical Homophobia, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, flangst if you will, they adopt a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22169782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regionals/pseuds/regionals
Summary: “He can cheat on my mom and literally defile the sanctity of marriage, but, y’know — he draws the line at me potentially being gay, and you being my gay lover.”“I’ll take your last name if we ever get married, just to get under his skin,” Billy mumbles.“The pastor’s gonna ask anyone if they object, and he’s gonna raise his hand and say,‘It was Adam and Eve, not Billy and Steve.’”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 24
Kudos: 530





	Slug Tracks

**Author's Note:**

> i put a lot of Love into this fic  
> i dont have a lot to say about it other than Please Take It  
> i wrote most of it in november 2019 but i got to thinking a few days ago and was like yknow its almost finished . wouldnt take much . so here we be
> 
> i have another fic that i want to do set in this universe but it wouldnt fit into the main fic as part of it or as an extra chapter so thats gonna come eventually but like for now this is what i have to offer

Steve barely has the chance to get one good look at the  _ new guy  _ in the parking lot of the high school before his brain starts short-circuiting, and the only thought in his head that he's able to think is,  _ "Oh,"  _ as he watches the new guy (and his ass) walk towards the front doors. He stares after him, too, like a starstruck, lovelorn middle school girl, in some sort of trance, until Nancy speaks from beside him, snapping him out of it; "God, I just  _ bet  _ that guy's an asshole."

Steve knows he sounds at least a little pathetic when he says, "Yeah, I'd bet on that too," in a tone that sounds distant and vaguely wistful.

*

The new guy --  _ Billy,  _ as Steve learns -- is something else.

He's from California.

He's different.

He's  _ exotic,  _ or as exotic as a white guy from California that's moved to podunk Indiana can get. The girls whisper about him in the hallways and the guys -- the ones who need a firm hand and someone to boss them around, the ones that need a ring leader -- fall into place behind him.

Steve decides that he dislikes him, at the very least. Dislikes the bravado, the macho attitude, the way he just doesn't quite seem to give a shit about what people think, the snide little remarks and jokes he mutters in passing or during basketball practice, the lingering gazes, the sneers, how he's just so fucking  _ effortlessly  _ charming even when he doesn't mean to be.

Steve dislikes how he just feels so fascinated by him, too. It bubbles up in his throat and makes his eyes burn white hot in the way they do before he's about to cry, or something, and he doesn't quite want to punch him out, but his knuckles start itching whenever he's nearby.

*

Steve knows something is wrong when he starts using words he's only ever read in books to describe Billy in his head. He feels like the girl in every shitty chick-flick that Nancy's ever dragged him to.

It's during AP European History (the one class Steve is  _ really  _ good at, and the one class he shares with Billy) that he realizes he has a problem. Billy is at the head of the room, giving an assigned speech about the fall of the Byzantine Empire, and just the way he  _ speaks  _ has Steve damn near hypnotized.

If molten gold had a sound, Billy's voice would probably be it, he decides. Steve knows Billy's an asshole, but he still has to sort of admire the way he takes academics so seriously. He can tell just from the way Billy speaks, and the enthusiasm in his tone, that he knows what he's talking about, that he isn't just reciting a revised version of the chapter they're on in the textbook, either.

Everything about him is golden. His hair. His skin. He's golden like the sun through a dirty window after the rain outside has just let up. Golden like the amber around a beetle. Golden and bright like the marigolds Steve's mother grows in her flowerbeds.

Steve feels small and large and bigger than his body all that the same time as he mostly watches and only sort of listens to Billy's speech. He's never been too good with words, but he can feel his brain making a bunch of connections, providing him with metaphors and similes and analogies, with words he's never had a reason to use before.

In the privacy of his brain, Steve allows himself to realize that he sort of feels like he has a crush.

It's honest to god fucking  _ terrifying _ .

*

It's one thing for Steve to be able to admit to himself, in his head, that he sort of has a crush on another guy, and another for Nancy to call him out on it. It's different when it's something in his head than it is to hear it out loud.

When Nancy interrupts Steve, who'd been complaining about basketball practice (and Billy, by association, even if they hadn't spoken more than two words to each other during practice) to ask, "Steve, are you gay?" it quits being intangible.

It's as if she says that, and suddenly everything is  _ real  _ and  _ scary _ . "I don't, you know, I don't really care if you are, but that's -- that's something that, as your girlfriend, I kind of would like to know about, and... With how you talk, it sounds a lot less like you hate Billy, and more like you have a crush on him."

Steve feels like she's just smacked him across the face. (It wouldn't be for the first time, either.) It's really fucking  _ weird,  _ he thinks, to have something that feels like such a deep, dirty little secret, presented to him on a silver platter by his girlfriend, of all the damn people who could have called him out on it.

He goes on the defensive immediately. "Two things, Nancy. I love  _ you,  _ and I'm not a  _ fag."  _ It comes out meaner than he meant it to, and Nancy flinches a little bit when he says it.

She doesn't question him about it further.

*

It's not that Steve has an issue with gay people, either. He really doesn't, but the idea of  _ himself  _ falling under that umbrella makes his blood run cold.

*

Steve would be lying if he said he didn't see it coming.

It's like clockwork.

She asks him if he's gay, he denies it, and over the course of the next month, he has to watch as their relationship deteriorates. Ultimately, things come to a head at Tina's stupid Halloween party.

There's music -- the kind that makes Steve feel like he's vibrating -- blaring through the house, but it's muffled in the bathroom, which is where he stands having a drunken argument with Nancy while simultaneously trying to get her cleaned up, trying to take care of her. She yells at him, indignant, incoherent, mumbles something or other about turning him gay, before getting  _ weepy,  _ because she's the kind of drunk that flip-flops between being belligerent and crying.

He drives her home once he gets a chance to sober up. He considers asking someone else to drive her, but the idea doesn't sit well with him, so he drives her home and barely manages to get her into her bedroom without alerting her parents to the fact that anything's amiss.

*

A few days later, when he asks her if she meant it when she said their relationship was bullshit, she can't look him in the eye.

It stings, but not as much as he thought it would.

*

Steve meets Max on accident. He has no idea who the hell she is, but when he sees her trailing behind Dustin, who's speed walking across the parking lot of the arcade, he starts gearing himself up for whatever melodramatic middle school bullshit's about to come his way.

As it turns out, the girl -- Max -- needs a ride home because her step brother, who happens to be  _ Billy,  _ blew off giving her a ride home.

She's a good kid and Steve decides that he likes her after she spends half of the drive from the arcade to her home picking apart Dustin's  _ Dig-Dug  _ strategy, and even arguing with him over it.

*

Steve's in the parking lot of the arcade having a smoke the first time Billy  _ actually  _ speaks to him like he's a person outside of school or basketball. It's been about a month since breaking up with Nancy.

He doesn't look up when he hears a car pulling up into the space next to his car, the one he has his back turned to, but he does look up when there's footsteps approaching him.

His heart drops into his ass when he makes eye contact with Billy. For a moment, the few seconds it takes him to make the connection that Billy's eyes are the color of the fucking sky, because of  _ course  _ he has to have pretty eyes, he feels like he can't quite breathe. He doesn't know if he wants to fight him, or --

He doesn't finish the thought.

Billy starts talking before Steve has a chance to think himself into a hole. "Why the fuck are  _ you  _ here? You got a kid brother, or something?"

Despite the cussing, he doesn't sound particularly aggressive. Steve gnaws on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "The kid I babysit is inside. I'm, uh, waiting for Keith to kick everyone out since it's about that time of night. What about you? It's weird that you're here too, man." He can already make a pretty good guess as to why Billy's at the arcade too, but he feels like it's maybe a little weird that he knows Billy's step sister better than he knows Billy himself.

"Step-sister. She has this gaggle of nerds that follow her around like she's God's gift to this green earth. It's arcade night, or some bullshit." Billy rolls his eyes, and if Steve wasn't internally losing his shit, he might have batted Billy's hand away when he reaches into the pocket of Steve's coat to steal a cigarette.

They don't speak too much after that, not until Steve's starting in on another cigarette.

Billy says, "So," drawing out the 'o' sound a little bit, before following it with, "What happened with Wheeler?" because, of course, that's the  _ one  _ thing he has to ask about.

"I dumped her," is what Steve tells him.

"Are you gay?" Billy laughs. "Seriously, you'd have to be gay to dump a girl like that. I mean, she ain't my type in the slightest, but still, man."

It's a joke. Steve  _ knows  _ that it's a joke, but he panics for the split second it takes him to realize it. He recovers pretty fast, enough to roll his eyes and to act a little put off. "I'm not gay. Shit just didn't work out."

*

Max catches a cold, or the flu, or  _ something _ that makes her sick enough for Mike's mom to ask Steve to drive her home early from D&D night some time after the new year. It's late and cold enough that Steve lets her borrow his coat and Jane wraps her scarf -- knitted with the ugliest combination of yarn that Steve's seen -- around Max's neck before Mrs. Wheeler sends her off with a plate of cookies.

Steve lights a cigarette at the intersection at the end of the street that the Wheeler family lives on, and after taking the first drag and blowing smoke out of his cracked window, he says, "Sorry about the cigarette. I'm sure you get enough of it from..." He does a vague hand gesture, not wanting to say Billy's name out loud, as if his name itself were cursed.

Max pulls the scarf down, to where it's tucked under her chin instead of her nose. "I don't really mind, actually. I'm more mad about Mike's stupid mom making me go home."

"You have a fever," Steve points out. "And you threw up. Twice."

"Yet Karen sends me home with cookies," She mutters back, picking at the plastic wrap over the cookies.

"Of course."

It's quiet for the next five minutes of the drive.

They're turning onto a different road when Max says, "I just wanted, like, a night away from all my bullshit. Screw whoever got me sick."

"Are you gonna be okay if I take you home?" Steve chances a glance at her, just in time to see her roll her eyes.

"I'm  _ fine." _

"I'm not -- I'm not great at talking about stuff, but, like, if you need to talk, man, the floor is yours."

Max props her feet up on Steve's dashboard and says, "You try too hard with the being a good babysitter thing."

"Well, funnily enough, I don't actually try that hard. I'd probably give you a cigarette right now if you asked. I'm not a very good babysitter."

She holds her hand out. "Give me one, then." She's testing him.

Steve sticks his cigarette in his mouth, so he can have one hand free to hold his steering wheel when he reaches over to bat her hand away. "I'm not  _ actually  _ giving you one." When he flicks the rest of his cigarette out of his car, and once he has his window rolled back up, he asks, "Your step brother isn't still being an asshole, is he?"

"No, no." She sniffles and pulls Steve's coat tighter around herself. "He's been a lot better lately. It's just -- he fights with his stupid dad a lot, and I don't like being there for it. I was kinda hoping I wouldn't have to deal with it tonight."

"Oh."Steve clicks his tongue and taps his fingers on his steering wheel a little bit. Curiosity gets the best of him pretty quickly, causing him to ask, "What kind of fighting? Like, yelling, or...?"

"I don't want to get into it, but his dad's a huge hard ass, and you've fuckin' met Billy. You know how he is. They... butt heads a lot." She's picking at her thumbnail with her index finger.

Steve doesn't really know what to say, and doesn't think of anything to say until he's turning onto her street. "I don't wanna make any assumptions, but... That makes a lot more sense. Y'know, with your asshole step brother."

Max nods. She doesn't say anything else, either, other than thanking Steve for the ride as she gets out of his car, and telling him that she'll get his coat back to him before taking the cookies and kicking his car door shut.

Steve drives off only after he sees that she's gotten inside safe.

*

Billy is the one that returns Steve's coat to him.

Steve's going to town on one of his knees with Ben-Gay after a basketball game, after pretty much everyone else has cleared out of the locker room, when Billy throws the coat over his head as he walks past.

It startles him, more than anything, and once he has his coat off of his head, he goes to shout something rude to him -- but it's too late, because Billy's walking out of the locker room, and the way he just  _ laughs  _ about essentially scaring the shit out of Steve, well, that pisses him off a little bit.

*

The rest of Steve's senior year, frankly, sucks.

He's confused most of the time. The way Nancy looked at him when she asked him if he's gay, as if she'd just sussed him out, sticks with him. The fact that Billy -- the subject of Steve's problem in the first place -- joked about it, even if he was just trying to be a dick, sticks with him too.

Billy's a whole other subject in and of himself.

They bump into each other outside of school every once in awhile, and sometimes he offers to take over carpooling for a day or two if he's in a good mood. (To be fair, though, Max, Will, and Jane are the only ones willing to get into a car with Billy, so Steve never  _ truly  _ gets a night off from carpooling.)

Billy goes from being outright aggressive with him to being something resembling  _ nice,  _ too.

Which doesn't help with the thing that Steve's trying his best not to call a crush, because calling  _ it  _ a crush makes it more real, he thinks. That doesn't mean it doesn't still bubble up in his throat every time he talks to Billy, and there's more than a few times between November and May that he works himself up enough, to the point that his hands go cold and he starts panicking.

*

Steve empties his savings the week he graduates and uses it to make a security deposit on an apartment. (He gets a job, too.)

The first night he spends in his new apartment he drinks cheap champagne and listens to music. It's nice to have the freedom to  _ do  _ this -- to sit in his underwear drinking cheap champagne before falling asleep with his jacket bunched up under his head and a flimsy fleece blanket over his body.

He doesn't quite feel like he has a home, but he likes his tiny basement apartment more than the house he grew up in.

*

Steve meets Robin the week he moves out.

She brings a lot of  _ peace  _ into his life, more than anything.

He tries asking her out, once, early in the summer, after they've finished closing up Scoops for the night. They're walking through a corridor, one of the ones that only employees have access to, when he tells her that he thinks they should go out sometime.

Steve knows that if any other girl responded to him by laughing and asking, "Aren't you  _ gay?"  _ it wouldn't have gone over so well with him.

When he starts huffing and puffing and  _ getting upset,  _ though, her whole demeanor shifts. She shushes him and nudges him towards a wall, as if standing near a wall would grant them more privacy than standing in the middle of the corridor would.

"Steve, dude, I'm not trying to be mean." Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet and tender, lacking it's usual dryness. Her eyebrows are drawing together a little bit, too. "It's just... You -- I've seen you checking guys out before. You look at guys the way I look at girls."  _ Oh.  _ "I just -- I kind of assumed. If you really aren't, it's cool, and if you are, that's cool too, but I can guarantee you, if we go on a date, we're gonna end up just, like, hanging out."

She waits, too, while Steve processes everything she's just told him. "I'm not...  _ obvious,  _ am I?" This is the closest he's ever come to verbalizing anything having to do with  _ that. _

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "No, but when you spend thirty hours of your week with someone, you start to notice things. Anyways, unless you're about to drive me home, I need to scram."

*

Over the course of the summer, Steve's apartment becomes  _ The Place  _ to hang out, at least among The Party, and between himself and his friends. (Of whom consist of Nancy and Jonathan, both of whom he's mostly on good terms with, and sometimes Tommy if he has absolutely  _ nothing  _ else to do. Getting out of high school does a lot to soothe the tension between the two of them.)

He's only alone a few nights of the week, which he's more than fine with. Near the end of the summer, Robin starts coming over on nights he doesn't have anyone else over, since Steve's the only person she knows who has a place, and who won't hit on her or otherwise make things  _ weird _ .

*

It's late in August that Robin asks if she can bring a friend over with her -- one who isn't of the  _ straight  _ variety -- and Steve agrees. She seems excited, saying, "I think the two of you could totally be great friends. I'm gonna be, like, motherfucking  _ Santa.  _ A friend Santa who sets you up with new friends, you dig?"

It makes him laugh.

All of that is why he feels almost mortified when Robin turns up at his apartment with Billy, who Steve hasn't seen hide nor hair of since May. (And, yeah, maybe he spent his summer looking for excuses not to go to the pool.)

The situation is not nearly as stressful as Steve's expecting.

He does grumble a little bit when he's dropping a bowl sized nugget of weed into the palm of Billy's hand about twenty minutes later, but that night he learns what a bowl of weed and a couple of shitty horror movies can do to foster a friendship. (Not a  _ lot,  _ but Steve quits feeling like he's about to crawl out of his skin with Billy around, and when Robin implies bringing him with her again, a  _ next time,  _ he doesn't say anything.)

*

Billy doesn't come over on his own, not without Robin or Max in tow, until October. Steve isn't necessarily expecting any visitors, given it's midnight on a Thursday and he has work in, like, six hours. He's smoking a cigarette when he answers the door, and when Billy asks, "I didn't wake you up, did I?" Steve can tell he knows the answer and that he's just asking as a courtesy, and, despite that, his heart still beats a little funny.

"Totally. I've started doing this thing where I smoke in my sleep," is the smart ass answer that he mumbles back. He ignores the voice in the back of his head that sounds a little bit like his dad's voice telling him to speak clearly. "I'm out of weed, by the way, so if you're here to get high..." He does a little gesture and doesn't finish the sentence.

Billy rolls his eyes. "You talk too much. I need somewhere to sleep tonight. Too cold to sleep in my car and my dad's being a dick."

"And everyone else we know either lives out of state or with their parents."

"Right. So." Billy glances to somewhere behind Steve, in the direction of his living room. (And, really, it's more like a living  _ half  _ room, since the living room and the kitchen share a room.) "Your couch. I'd like to sleep on it. Do you think you can allow that?"

Steve doesn't say anything out loud, but he shrugs, and steps back.

Billy doesn't need to be told to come in.

Steve half wants to ask him not to speak down to him, because it's just a thing that  _ bugs _ him.

He doesn't ask, though.

He  _ does  _ grab an extra blanket from his linen closet, and the other pillow from his bed for him though.

*

The second time Billy comes over on his own is on Halloween.

When Steve swings the door open, Billy says, "Trick or treat," in a not so enthusiastic tone.

He isn't dressed up. If anything, he's dressed down. He has a denim jacket layered over a sweatshirt, plus jeans and his boots, which is enough of a shock for Steve to say, "A  _ sweatshirt?  _ It's like you actually want to be warm for once."

"Gave myself a cold after Halloween last year," is what he says as he invites himself in, stepping past Steve. He waits until he's sitting on Steve's couch, right in the middle of it with a foot propped up on the coffee table, to dig a cigarette out of the pack in his sweatshirt pocket.

Steve sort of still feels like he's walking on eggshells around Billy, in the way that Billy's just a little prickly and stand-offish, and in the way that he just makes Steve  _ nervous,  _ but he figures offering him a bowl with cheap Halloween candy -- the kind you buy in bulk for almost dirt cheap -- is a safe bet. "I'm out of tricks tonight, by the way."

Billy grabs a handful of candy, and crams it into his sweatshirt pocket, saying, "Thanks," around his cigarette, which is between his lips.

They don't say anything to each other after this. Billy doesn't explain why he's there and Steve doesn't think to ask, not until later, not until after they've been sitting a little too close to each other watching a shitty horror flick on the tiny little CRT television that's stacked on top of a few milk crates. It's nearing the middle of the movie by the time Steve thinks to ask him exactly  _ why  _ he's there.

"My dad's being a dick again." He shrugs, and adjusts his position, sinking a little further down on the couch. "Not enough for me to crash on your couch this time, but at least enough for me to want to get the fuck gone for however long it takes Maxine to finish whatever her and her gaggle of dweebs are doing."

"I think they're going trick or treating, then playing Dungeons and Dragons," Steve explains around a cheek full of Tootsie Roll, not bothering to look at Billy. The movie is at a mildly interesting part. "Mike's been planning some big campaign, I guess, and they're supposed to play it tonight."

"Jesus." Billy scoffs, and Steve doesn't have to look at him to know he's rolling his eyes. "You're all so fucking  _ nerdy." _

"Yeah, and you're gay, so shut up," Steve snarks back with a laugh.

"At least I'm not a  _ nerd." _

Steve mimics him under his breath, Billy snorts, and they go back to quietly watching the horror movie.

*

The scene in Steve’s living room mid-November is cozy and relaxed.

Billy and Robin turned up earlier in the evening with two pizzas and a gram of weed — enough for the three of them to have fun for an evening — and present time, Steve’s the right kind of high, the kind that makes him not give a shit about the fact that Billy’s sprawled out sleeping on the couch, head in Robin’s lap and feet in Steve’s. Robin has her hat over her own face, snoring softly with one hand in a sweatshirt pocket and the other resting on one of Billy’s shoulder blades, under the blanket that he’s under.

Steve adjusts his position, getting a little more comfortable and trying to be subtle about tugging part of the blanket that’s covering Billy free so he can cover his shoulders at least. It’s when he has the blanket tucked under his chin and he’s starting to fall asleep that he realizes that being an adult really isn’t what he thought it’d be.

Sure, he has taxes and shit, but he isn’t  _ busy  _ and isn’t realizing his dream career before his own eyes, not like the people he sees on TV or in the bullshit brochures his guidance counselor started giving him late into the first semester of his senior year. He decides that he’s not mad about it, though, because he knows that the happiest he’s ever felt is  _ now,  _ stoned and sleepy with the two people who he’s pretty sure count as his best friends sleeping on his couch.

He feels something akin to pride bloom in his chest at the knowledge that anyone feels safe enough around him or his home to just  _ show up  _ to crash. He thinks that if  _ that’s  _ part of what being an adult is, having a home that he’s careful to nurture, a home that he’s almost obsessive about remaining a safe space, then maybe it’s not so bad.

*

Billy comes over with Chinese food on Thanksgiving.

Steve’s heart starts doing a  _ thing —  _ that annoying thing that Steve really wishes it  _ wouldn't  _ do — when Billy’s pulling a carton of orange chicken, opening it briefly, and handing it to Steve when he sees it doesn’t have any sauce on it, saying, “You said something about not liking the sauce on orange chicken awhile back,” as he does so.

It’s a small thing but it’s still nearly the most consideration Billy’s ever really  _ had  _ for him, so he writes it off as just being a little  _ spooked _ , refusing to read into it further.

While they’re eating, spread out across Steve’s living room with the TV on some cooking show, and against Steve’s better judgment, he asks, “Why aren’t you spending Thanksgiving with your own family? I mean, not that I don’t enjoy  _ not  _ being alone on Thanksgiving, but, like… you still live at home and shit.”

“ I’ve told you that my dad’s a dick, right?” Billy has no table manners, Steve decides, when he starts speaking around a mouth full of rice. (To be fair, maybe table manners don’t quite apply when you’re eating from a take out container in someone else’s living room.) “He’s up in bumfuck Ohio with his  _ picture perfect  _ little family, and I don’t quite fit into that, what with being a faggot and looking like I just crawled out of an ashtray. What about you? You’re alone too, asshole.”

“ My parents are in Atlanta,” Steve tells him. “I probably would’ve gone with them, but when they, like, invited me along… I mean, who invites someone over for Thanksgiving dinner the week of, y’know? Felt like they were just inviting me as a courtesy.”

“ You not close with your folks, or somethin’?” Billy turns his head to make eye contact with Steve. His expression seems uncharacteristically  _ open,  _ as if he’d listen if Steve decided to spill his guts.

Steve doesn’t, in fact, spill his guts, not completely anyways. “Honestly? Not really. I mean, shit — I’m pretty sure I was a freshman the last time my dad hugged me. Not that — not that I’m big on hugs, or whatever, but… he’s my  _ dad _ . Deep down, I think everyone sort of just wants a good dad hug.”

“ I was probably in preschool the last time my dad hugged me, honestly.” His tone is dry and bitter and Steve doesn’t miss the way he stabs at his next piece of orange chicken with his fork a little too hard. “Your dad sounds like a dick too, by the way.”

“ Oh, he totally is,” Steve affirms. “I mean, I doubt he’s as big of a dick as yours is, but he still sucks. And, y’know, I mean that in the real way. Not in the spoiled rich kid way."

"I get it. If he's a shitty dad, then he's a shitty dad, man."

*

Knowing that Billy isn't straight makes things easier, Steve thinks.

It makes him feel safer.

Billy doesn't talk about it. (Not that he'd bring up being straight in every other sentence if he were straight, though.) Sometimes, though, if it's late enough, he makes offhand comments about certain male celebrities, or vaguely talks about his future, talks about that metaphorical person he's supposed to end up with.

"When I was younger," he starts explaining, mumbling and slurring his words a little bit, since he's sleepy, since they're in Steve's bed, which is comfortable and cozy, trying to sleep; "I always thought to myself... I'd grow up and move in with my best friend, y'know, a  _ guy  _ best friend, and we'd cook dinner together and have sleepovers every night." He smiles, too, and it's -- it's something else.

Steve thinks that, maybe, if he were a different person, he might reach out towards Billy, might move his hair out of his face and cup his cheek, or something corny and affectionate like that. He's himself, though, so he only adjusts his position a little bit to be more comfortable while he watches Billy talk.

"In hindsight, it was pretty gay."

It's because Billy's gay, Steve thinks, that he has the courage to come a little closer to verbalizing anything having to do with his own sexuality. "I keep thinking that I'm going to marry a girl. Except. I don't know if I'm going to do it because I want to, or because it's what’s expected of me. It's just... I also keep thinking that... Maybe being with a guy wouldn't be so bad, y'know?"

Billy nods. He yawns, too. "I had a few boyfriends when I lived in California. Nothin' serious, obviously, but it's not so bad. I've tried dating a few girls, too, but... It's kinda hard to date someone when you can't love them."

And  _ that  _ \--  _ "It's kinda hard to date someone when you can't love them"  _ \-- hits Steve like a slap to the face.

*

In the days following Billy saying that, Steve keeps revisiting it.

Keeps thinking back on his relationship with Nancy, because, really, that's the only experience he has being in a relationship. It takes Billy saying that it's hard to date someone when you can't love them for it to click in his head and for him to be able to admit to himself that he's never really had any romantic feelings for any of the girls he's been with.

He tries not to think about how  _ whatever it is  _ that he feels for Billy sort of feels how he's always thought romantic feelings were supposed to feel.

*

Billy starts coming around more often after he turns eighteen early in December.

And, by  _ more often,  _ Steve means that Billy turns up more nights than he doesn't. Steve asks him about it a few days before Christmas, when they're both drunk on malt liquor, lying on Steve's bed, listening to a record; "Why aren't you ever at home? I mean, honestly, I totally don't mind having you, but... Don't you ever want to just... sleep in your own bed?"

Billy smacks his lips a few times. He turns his head towards his left, to look at Steve, who's looking back at him. His face is flushed in the way that someone's face gets when they're drunk, and his answer to Steve's question is a lot more blunt and truthful than Steve was expecting.

"It's because you're nice to me," he starts with. "You don't yell at me, and you're not constantly throwing the fact that I'm eighteen and that you could totally throw me out at a moment's notice in my face. I mean, not that I wouldn't love to sleep in my bed, but I'd rather crash here than stay at home and listen to my dad pitch a fit at every little thing."

"That's... fair enough." Steve nods. Billy's eyes look a little extra blue right now too, and if asked, Steve would say that he says, "If you ever, like, actually get kicked out, you could come here if you wanted," only because he's drunk, even if he knows he'd make the same offer sober.

"That's already the plan. Don't worry."

Billy winks and smiles, too, something goofy and unguarded that makes Steve feel something bordering on enchanted.

*

It’s in January that Billy starts leaving his clothes in Steve’s apartment. It starts off with a few t-shirts, which Steve wears sometimes, because t-shirts are always better when they don’t belong to you, and, added, there’s a part of himself (one that he tries his best to ignore) that just likes the fact that the t-shirts are  _ Billy’s _ .

When a few t-shirts turn into Steve freeing up some space in his closet, he decides that a conversation needs to be had.

He puts off talking to him about it until it’s February and he walks into his apartment after an evening shift at the video store to find Billy smoking a cigarette in his living room and folding laundry, both his own, and Steve’s.

Steve kicks his shoes off, not bothering to line them up with the four other pairs — one of his which  _ aren’t  _ his — that line the wall next to his door. He takes a little extra care with hanging his coat up on a hook, before heading into his living room to throw his keys onto the coffee table, and to wrap himself in the blanket draped over the back of his couch.

Billy doesn’t say anything to him, at least not outside of, “Hey,” when he walks into his living room, and it takes Steve a long time to come up with something that seems appropriate to say.

He knows that Billy sometimes just  _ does  _ weird shit for reasons he almost never quite gets into, and maybe Steve feels a little slow for not quite understanding how his friend’s dad plays into the equation, for not quite being able to make very many connections as far as that goes, but he knows better than to just start asking questions without putting at least a little forethought and consideration into it.

He doesn’t ask about the laundry, not directly, but he does ask, “Did you get kicked out?”

The way Billy dodges the question makes Steve think that the answer is  _ yes. _

So he asks again, with a little more urgency in his tone. “Don’t blow me off, dude. Did you get kicked out? Yes or no?”

“ I’m not trying to blow you off, but it’s  _ complicated.” _

“ Then explain it to me, because you’re taking up a good third of my closet space, and I don’t share my closet space with just anyone, dude.” Steve’s deliberate with his word choice, making it clear that they don’t have to have a serious conversation if Billy really doesn’t want to, but also that the opening for a serious conversation is there in the first place.

Billy’s answer doesn’t come right away. It comes when he finishes folding the basket of laundry, just in time to light a new cigarette. “I didn’t technically get kicked out.” He still isn’t looking at Steve. He digs his thumbnail into the filter of his cigarette between drags. “I can’t cook, eat, or do my laundry in  _ his  _ house, and  _ technically  _ I’m allowed to sleep there, but… What good does it do me to sleep there if I can’t cook, eat, or do my fucking laundry? I asked him, too, if I could move out, but then he just pitches this big fit about how it’s my responsibility to play taxi driver to Maxine, so it’s like… It’s complicated.”

“ If you ever wanna, like… Live somewhere that you’re not gonna have to be on guard constantly, you could maybe start bringing some of your stuff over. Only if you wanted, though.” There’s a part of Steve that wants to feel nervous, but more than that, he’s just  _ worried,  _ just wants his friend to be safe. Dustin’s called it his  _ mother hen  _ instinct a few times, but Steve prefers to just think of himself as a good friend.

Billy looks at him now. He turns his head, then his body, to face Steve. “You were actually being serious about that?”

“ Of course I was, man. That’s not the kind of offer you make lightly.”

*

And, like that, Billy moves in.

Steve doesn’t stop to consider that it might be a bad idea, either.

There’s a few weeks of him and Robin and sometimes Max slowly bringing some of his stuff over to Steve’s apartment, including his bed, which proves to be a pain in the  _ ass  _ trying to get into Steve’s apartment, but it’s managed eventually.

He isn’t a bad roommate, either.

They take turns with dishes and laundry and Steve counts himself lucky for being able to acquire a pretty decent first roommate. Billy’s time is split between school, extracurriculars, and the four hours in the evening that he works at the smoothie shop in the mall, but he forks over a portion of his paycheck to help with rent and bills.

Steve doesn’t complain, either, because really — who the hell’s going to complain about not having to foot the entirety of their rent every month?

*

Steve’s hanging out with Nancy, drinking beer, smoking, and throwing rocks into the quarry when she asks, “What’s it like living with Billy?”

He thinks it’s her way of being nosy. He shrugs, and for awhile, he doesn’t answer her. He pelts rocks into the quarry as hard as he can, and when he  _ does  _ answer her, it’s while he’s lighting a cigarette and avoiding her gaze by staring at old slug tracks on one of the bigger rocks that he can't lift. “He’s good company. Don’t feel as lonely anymore.” He sort of feels like he should pick his words more carefully around her.

She doesn’t say anything mean. She doesn't say anything at all, really, for a few minutes, before asking, "Are you and him...?"

Steve knows what she's asking, and he shakes his head. "No. I couldn't imagine... Y'know, having that with him, when I'm still trying to figure my own shit out. It's like, I have enough shit going on without throwing in a relationship with another dude on top of it."

"So, you  _ do  _ like him, then?" Maybe, at one point, Steve would've expected her to look hurt, but right now, she looks like she's trying not to smile.

He makes a face and throws another rock into the quarry. "I... guess. He's... nice, I guess."

"You guess?" She actually smiles, now. "Also,  _ nice?  _ He's a total tool."

"Okay, but,  _ you  _ don't know him. He's way different than I thought he was. To add insult to injury, and shit. It just figures that the guy that comes along and fucks my life up also just so happens to be a super cool person, and not  _ actually  _ an asshole like he acts." Steve rolls his eyes and pelts another rock into the quarry, before using his other hand to bring his cigarette back to his lips.

"He does  _ not  _ like me," She tells him after another few minutes of silence. She doesn't seem particularly upset. "I don't know if it's because of you, or what, but you should see the dirty looks he gives me. It's kind of funny, honestly."

Steve can imagine. This revelation doesn't particularly surprise him. "He hasn't said anything to me, so I couldn't tell you why."

*

Steve goes to Billy’s graduation in May.

The few people from his own graduating class that he runs into thinks he’s there for Nancy, and he isn’t surprised to see a few raised eyebrows thrown his way when he’s on the receiving end of a hug from Billy, one of those hugs where Steve gets lifted off of his feet. (They don’t hug like this very often. The last time they hugged like that, they were half past plastered, celebrating the fifty cent raise that’d been kicked Steve’s way back in April.)

It’s later in the evening, while they’re waiting for Robin to show up at Steve’s apartment for a low key sort of celebration, that Billy kisses him for the first time, right in the middle of the kitchen. He asks first, of course, choosing that moment specifically to be a little vulnerable with him, saying that he’s sort of wanted to do it for awhile.

Steve’s heart is in his throat. He can feel himself starting to fucking  _ panic,  _ because, really, he’s been thinking about kissing Billy for the better part of two years, now, whether or not he wants to admit it. Before he has a chance to work himself up, though, he says, “Uh, yeah. Go for it.”

Billy doesn’t need to be told twice.

He’s not at all aggressive or abrasive about it. He pulls Steve closer to himself, until they’re only a few inches apart, until it takes him barely moving his head forward to press the gentlest, sweetest kiss that Steve’s ever received onto the older boy’s lips.

One kiss turns into two, then three, and maybe there’s a few seconds where Steve finds himself tilting his head, just a bit, to deepen the kiss, before pulling away a little too fast. He knows he must look bewildered, because Billy laughs. Not necessarily at him, but something that’s a little exasperated and giddy, and god, the smile on his face is sweet enough to give someone cavities.

It’s the way that Billy sounds and looks right now that keeps Steve from allowing himself to start panicking. He's smiling so sweet and he cups Steve's face in his hands, continuing to give him a few more smooches here and there all over his face.

It makes Steve start cackling and trying to kiss him back.

Eventually, it turns into a game of either of them trying to dodge kisses from each other, and, really -- it's probably the tamest fight they've had.

*

Steve has to decide whether or not to extend his lease in June. He’s leaning towards extending it, and when Billy tells him he sort of has vague plans to work for the next year and to save up some money before going to college the following fall, he goes through with it.

*

Steve realizes he’s in love with Billy, in the way he thinks he should have been in love with Nancy, when they’re driving from Hawkins to Chicago for a concert late in the summer.

Ratt’s  _ Round And Round  _ is on the radio.

It’s all Steve can hear, really, outside of Billy, who’s singing along, and drumming along with his fingers on his steering wheel. He’s being  _ goofy,  _ which isn’t something he lets himself be very often.

It’s when Billy turns towards him, to sing the chorus to him, smiling something bordering on  _ gleeful _ , that it hits him. It’s a quick thought, and it  _ scares  _ him, but Billy just looks so goddamn  _ happy  _ that Steve can’t help but to start laughing and singing along (albeit more poorly) with him.

He’s scared, but —

He feels good.

*

They get a cat.

There's a little girl with a box of kittens outside of the only grocery store in Hawkins. Steve doesn't spare her a glance, because the idea of getting a cat is something that's never even crossed his mind as a possibility before, but Billy grabs him by the elbow, and when Steve looks at him, he sees that he's looking at the box of kittens.

The little girl nudges the box a little bit, towards the two of them, and asks Billy, "Do you want one?"

It's kind of funny, Steve thinks, the way Billy's face just crumples, the way his body deflates, as he stares down at the box. He doesn't ask Steve if they can. Instead, he says, "We're getting a cat," as he kneels down on the ground in front of the box.

All of the kittens in the box are black and white, and the one that Billy gently scoops up in his hands has a patch of white across her muzzle, looking sort of like a funky mustache. As Billy stands up, to tuck the kitten inside his jacket, since she's small enough for it, and since it's a little cold out, he uses the politest tone Steve's ever heard out of his mouth to thank the little girl, who just beams at him.

*

Steve's never really had any pets before.

He doesn't immediately see Zeppelin -- because, yeah, Billy's the kind of guy that names a cat  _ Zeppelin  _ \-- and feel any strong emotions towards her. He's not about to be a dick to her, either, because he's not like that, but beyond taking turns changing her litter and feeding her, he doesn't feel as if he has any sort of bond with her.

Not until she's been in the apartment for a month and he's having a panic attack. It's late, and he's lying on his back in his bedroom, feeling like someone has their hands wrapped around his lungs, eyes burning and cheeks all splotchy. His fingers are interlocked over his chest, and when he hears his door being nudged open, he squeezes his eyes shut and digs his fingernails into the back of either of his hands, mentally  _ praying  _ that Billy hasn't come in to check on him. (He doesn't usually pop in to check on Steve, but he figures that the one time he does would be  _ now _ .)

He does flinch when his bed dips the tiniest bit, and his head whips towards his visitor when he hears the tiniest, quietest little  _ meow.  _ Wide green eyes stare back at him and he's never thought a cat could fucking look  _ sympathetic  _ before, but Zeppelin's somehow managing it. She meows again, something a little lower toned, and Steve unclasps his hands long enough to pat his chest.

She's gentle. She slowly moves towards him, taking a sort of test step, before ultimately situating herself on his chest. Steve's still upset and a little sniffly, but when she stretches forward, with all the grace of an Olympic athlete to start licking his cheeks, he starts laughing. It's sad sounding and pathetic, but he still laughs.

He's a little surprised at how having this cat here, licking his cheeks and purring, making a bed out of his chest, makes it feel like breathing is a little easier.

Later, too, when he's calmer and his head isn't rushing, he quietly mumbles to her, "You don't happen to have any advice on being gay in rural Indiana, do you?"

Zeppelin trills at him, as if to acknowledge the fact that she heard him speak. Her eyes are closed, too, and maybe Steve wishes he could feel as relaxed as she looks.

*

Billy kisses him again in October when he gets a letter in the mail telling him that, essentially,  _ Stanford  _ (like,  _ that  _ Stanford) would love to have him.

Steve wakes up to Billy yelling from across the apartment that afternoon.

It startles the shit out of him, more than anything else. He’s half expecting some sort of Hargrove Family Drama to be unfolding in his —  _ their  _ living room, but as soon as Billy makes eye contact with him, he shouts,  _ “Guess who’s going to Stanford next fall, you mother fucker?!” _

Steve finds himself on the receiving end of more than a few excited smooches, which he’s ultimately fine with once he gets himself to quit feeling like he's about to throw up.

What he finds scary, when he thinks about it later when he’s brushing his teeth, is the fact that this means Billy's moving.

He doesn’t bring it up, and tries not to think about it.

*

Robin's the one that brings up the idea of Steve moving with Billy next fall.

Steve can feel the apprehension -- at what, only God knows -- in his collarbones and even though Billy just rolls his eyes when Robin brings it up, Steve can tell there's  _ something  _ that he wants to say.

He says it when Robin leaves the room half an hour later to answer the door for the pizza delivery guy. He keeps his voice down, and the look on his face has a certain level of intensity to it when he says, "I'm not going to ask you to move with me. You can, if you want, but I'm not asking that from you."

Steve responds with, "I'm gonna think about it."

Billy kisses him on the cheek.

Billy also laughs at him when he sees the way the tips of Steve's ears are turning pink.

*

There's another concert later in the month. It's in Indianapolis this time, and it's Steve's turn to drive. (Added, it's cold as  _ shit,  _ and the heater in the Camaro doesn't work for shit, but the heater in Steve's car  _ does,  _ which is all it takes for Billy to decide that it's Steve's turn to drive.)

It's when they're in the middle of nowhere, too far from Hawkins for Steve to drive back and too far from any rest stops or gas stations to stop, for Steve to find an excuse to escape, that Billy asks, "Can I talk to you about something, man?"

Steve blows a lock of his hair out of his face and makes a mental note to go get a haircut before answering him. "Not like I can go anywhere without running my car off the side of the road. I don't, uh, give a shit, by the way. You can talk, or whatever."

"Okay. Can I ask why you're so fuckin'  _ skittish? _ You know when Zep gets spooked by something? That's what you're like, except it's, like, all the time."

Steve shrugs and mumbles, "I dunno what you mean."

Billy isn't satisfied with that. "Oh,  _ bullshit!  _ The fuck you don't know what I mean. I don't think it's too bold of me to assume we sort of have a  _ thing  _ for each other, and I mean, if you don't  _ like _ being touched, say the word and I'll totally back off, but it's like... I can hardly high five you without you being weird about it."

Of all the guys in the world Steve thinks he could fucking be in love with, it has to be Billy, who is apparently very  _ forward.  _ (It's not as if he wasn't previously aware of how forthright Billy can be, but it's different when he's initiating a  _ talk.) _

Steve spends a few minutes trying to think of how to explain it to him. He tries, he does, but his brain won't make the words connect. He ends up settling on, "I haven't done anything like this with another guy before."

He's not stupid, either. He knows he shies away and maybe sometimes flinches when Billy touches him. He wishes a hand on a shoulder or his lower back, or an arm around his shoulders, or any vague gesture of affection from Billy wouldn't make him feel like he's crawling out of his skin, and he wishes more than that he could find the words to make him understand.

"Do you want me to back off?" He sounds -- concerned. Concern is the right word for his tone. "I'm -- y'know, I'm kind of a touchy-feely guy, which is totally embarrassing or whatever, but if I'm, like, making you uncomfortable  _ at all,  _ I'll totally back off. We don't  _ have  _ to be a thing, or whatever, just because we're the only two gay guys in Hawkins."

Steve half wants to protest and say he isn't gay. He doesn't do this. He doesn't say anything to back up the gay comment, but maybe the fact that he doesn't argue with him is a sign of growth, he thinks. "It's -- it's not that I necessarily want you to fuck off. It's more that... I'm just not used to... I mean, I have trouble doing... certain things. I guess. God, I sound fucking stupid."

"Kind of, yeah." Billy's teasing. "No, I mean... I get that."

Steve surprises himself a few minutes later when he blurts out, "You -- you're why me and Nancy broke up."

"You broke up with her for  _ me?" _

Steve makes a choked off sort of noise in his throat and scrubs his hand down his face. "No. She dumped me because somehow she just... Figured it out. I don't know if it was because of how I talked about you, or if I looked at you wrong and she saw, or if it was something else."

"She's not shitty about you being gay, is she?"

"No. She's cool about that stuff. We -- we used to talk, sometimes, before she moved for school, so I'd, uh, be surprised if she wasn't... Y'know."

"Right, yeah."

Their conversation doesn't continue beyond that point, because Billy changes the subject, and Steve thinks that, maybe, he's a little flustered, if the way his face is flushed has anything to say about it.

*

Things change after the talk in the car.

Steve still doesn't initiate anything with Billy, not on his own, not without some sort of prior prompting, but things change and things get a little easier.

_ Kissing  _ becomes a multiple times a day thing instead of an every once in awhile celebratory thing. It takes four mornings of Billy planting kisses onto Steve's mouth while he makes coffee for him to start getting used to it. He does not, however, get used to Billy's  _ rank  _ morning breath, and on the fifth day, where Billy pulls him close, acting all coy, Steve has to gently nudge him away, saying, "Your breath is fucking rank. Go brush your teeth."

That turns into a sort of tug-of-war where Steve keeps trying to back up, only for Billy to hold onto him, to breathe into his face, for either of them to start laughing, and —

Things are easier.

*

Billy quits sleeping in his own bed.

Steve learns that beyond the concept of sharing a bed being a pretty gay thing to do, he doesn't mind. He liked sharing a bed with Nancy, liked having someone to put his cold feet on, someone to hold, and when it's Billy that he gets to hold onto at night, he learns he doesn't mind it. He remembers that he sleeps better when he's tangled up in a haphazard mess of limbs and bed sheets, and getting to wake up next to Billy every morning isn't the worst thing in the world.

*

Steve’s sitting on the floor, under where the landline is wall mounted, talking to Nancy on the phone, because he wants to talk to someone about Billy — someone that isn’t Robin, Billy himself, or under the age of eighteen. “It’s just weird. We’re not — we’re not explicitly together or anything, but… I don’t know. I over think things sometimes. You know that.”

“ _ What were you expecting it to be like?” _

“ I thought things were going to get weird. I’ve been real afraid of our friendship getting ruined, but… Things feel normal, except now we kiss and hug and shit. I just wish we didn’t have to hide it. His dad would have a fucking fit, and you know mine would too.”

“ _ Oh, of course. Your dad totally sucks.”  _ He can hear some noise in the background, something like papers. He figures she’s doing homework, or something.  _ “He’s not an asshole to you, right? I remember him being a dick at school.” _

“ No, not at all. He’s — he’s fucking great, honestly. He makes me feel good about myself, and I’m not — I don’t feel insecure about our relationship. Does that make sense? Do I sound totally cheesy?”

“ _ You sound a little cheesy, but everyone sounds cheesy talking about their boyfriends, especially if you have a good one. I get what you mean, though.”  _ She’s quiet for a few moments, and Steve doesn’t have anything to say, so he waits for her to continue.  _ “I’m happy for you. You know that, right?” _

“ Well, I would  _ hope  _ you’re happy for me. It’d be a little fucked if you weren’t,” he teases.

She laughs, something soft and gentle, in that way that she does, and it makes the corners of his mouth turn up a little bit.

*

Jonathan takes Christmas pictures for them when he comes back to Hawkins for the week of Thanksgiving.

Billy suggests the idea in exchange for getting him stoned, and Steve's about to backtrack for him, to tell Jonathan that's cool and that, really, they don't  _ need _ Christmas pictures, but before he has a chance to do it, Jonathan says, "Honestly, man, I'd give my left nut for some weed right now. Christmas photos are the least I can do."

Which is why Steve finds himself in an ugly Christmas sweater the next day, holding Zeppelin in his arms on his couch, with Billy sitting next to him and Jonathan setting up his camera on a tripod on the other side of the coffee table.

Jonathan takes the first photo, then a second and a third, before standing up and shooting that stupid pensive look he always has towards the two of them. Steve does a gesture, as if to ask him what the fuck, and Jonathan, apparently, has no issue telling him; "You guys can sit closer if you want. Y'know, since you're, like... together and all."

Steve holds Zeppelin a little tighter and she trills at him. "Pardon?" He glances over at Billy and isn't surprised to see that, if anything, he just looks vaguely amused.

"Look, Nancy told me, and if you guys want to take some mushy photos, I'm  _ totally  _ more than happy to take them, but Steve, man, you look like someone just pissed in your coffee."

Three months of college has, apparently, done a lot for his self confidence.

Billy doesn't give Steve a chance to start getting agitated, either, Instead, he scoots closer and throws an arm over his shoulder.

Jonathan gets back to taking pictures.

*

The picture that gets framed and hung up in the hallway is the one where Billy leans over to kiss Steve on the temple, where Steve's face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red, where Zeppelin has a paw extended towards Billy's hair, trying to play with it.

*

Max sometimes comes over if she doesn't have anything else to do, or if she needs out of her own home for awhile, so on a Saturday that Billy works, he isn't surprised to open his door, with Zeppelin The Escape Artist scooped up in his arms, to find her and her skateboard outside.

He doesn't get a chance to ask her if she's there to hang out, though, because she says, "I need to go Christmas shopping for my mom and Neil."

Steve doesn't have anything else to do, so he more or less just  _ shrugs,  _ before inviting her inside to wait and maybe to warm up a bit while he slips into his bedroom to get dressed in something that isn't sweatpants and one of Billy's sweatshirts.

It's when he comes back out, dressed and ready to go, that he finds her at the end of the hall, looking at the Christmas picture with some sort of unreadable expression on her face.

When he thinks about it, he's pretty sure Max isn't going to  _ care,  _ but for the minute or two it takes her to say something to him, he can feel the anxiety bubbling up in his gut. It starts to dissipate a little bit though when she asks, "So... You and Billy?"

Steve can only think to say, "Yeah."

She nods, nice and slow. "Why him?" She looks at him too, looking a little confused. "He's an asshole."

Steve shrugs, and looks down at the hangnail on his thumb, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "He's sweet, when we're alone. We aren't, like,  _ officially  _ together or anything, but he's -- he'd be a pretty good boyfriend."

"Oh."  _ Silence.  _ "I'm allowed to be happy for you, right?"

"Yeah. Of course. Are you -- are you gonna tell anyone?"

Max shakes her head. "No. Does anyone else...?"

"Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan know. Other than them, just you and us, I guess."

*

"Max sort of, uh, found out about our...  _ thing." _ It's evening, now, and Billy's home from work.

"Okay." He draws out the 'kay' part and looks over his shoulder at Steve, who's lingering at the edge of their tiny kitchen while Billy cooks dinner. "Did you tell her?"

"No, uh, she saw the picture. In the hall." He jerks his head towards the hallway, even though Billy isn’t looking at him.

"Was she cool, or...?" He doesn't seem to give a shit.

"I think so, yeah." Steve creeps into the kitchen, and ends up with his arms wrapped around Billy's waist, cheek pressed against his shoulder. "She said she wasn't going to tell anyone. Knowing my luck, I'm gonna pick Dustin up for D&D night, and he's gonna start hounding me."

Billy snorts, and reaches for one of Steve's arms, to give him something of a reassuring wrist squeeze, before returning his hand to the handle on the pan in front of him. "So. We're, like...? A  _ thing...?" _

"I mean, yeah, I'd say so." Steve's mumbling. "The idea of commitment kinda... freaks me out a little bit, but it'd be stupid to act like we're just friends, I guess."

"That would be kinda stupid, yeah."

*

"Hey, man, can I talk to you about something?" Steve mutes the volume on Robin's television, which has a movie playing on it, to ask this.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Robin jokes around a bite of pizza.

Steve closes his eyes to roll them. "Can we be serious? For just a bit?"

Robin wipes her hand over her mouth, then wipes her fingers on the couch cushions next to herself, and, yeah — her table manners have deteriorated around Steve since they've met. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. Sorry. What’s on your mind, Stevie?”

It takes Steve a few minutes of trying to think of what he wants to say before he actually  _ thinks  _ of something. “You, uh… You know me and Billy are…? Like, you know, right?”

“ I mean, yeah. If you try telling me you two aren’t together after this, I’m totally not going to believe you. So.” She does a hand gesture. “Go on.”

“ Okay.” He smacks his lips once, and swallows around nothing a few times. “We’re, like… We’re doing fine, I guess, but… I sort of… I sort of feel like we’re having some communication problems…?” The pitch of his voice goes up as he keeps talking, trying to telegraph that he’s unsure of himself. “When me and Nancy were dating, all we did was  _ talk,  _ because that’s all she fucking wanted to do, but with me and Billy… We’re both dudes, and neither of us really  _ like _ talking unless it’s absolutely necessary, so… We don’t. And — and I kind of… We sort of haven’t had a chance to talk about our… thing. In depth. I never know when to bring it up, and I know  _ he’s  _ not going to fucking do it, so… I don’t know.”

“ I’m going to tell you what to do. I know this might be a little, you know, far fetched, and that it might be hard for you to wrap your head around it, but I really think you should just talk to him.”

“But _how?_ I have trouble talking out loud about my fucking… _Feelings,_ or whatever.” Steve groans and lets out a long suffering sigh, slumping down a little further into the couch they’re on. “We’ve been doing this since October. That’s a long time to not talk about it beyond establishing that we’re a _thing._ And — and I’m still having a _lot_ of trouble thinking of myself as — as _gay_ in the first place.” And, yeah, maybe he’s a little choked up after spitting out the last sentence.

“ Steve, seriously, just talk to him. You could be having this conversation with him instead of me right now. I know Billy, like, I  _ really  _ know Billy, and I’m positive he’d be more than happy to listen to you. He  _ adores  _ you and I know he’s not always super expressive, or whatever, but talking with you is, like, the  _ least  _ he’d do for you. Shit, I’m sure if you buttered him up enough, he’d probably give you a kidney. Just tell him you want to talk and go from there.”

They spend another five minutes going back and forth, Steve trying to justify why he can’t talk to Billy (or why he won’t) and Robin trying to tell him to nut up, before Steve gets frustrated and unmutes the TV.

*

Christmas actually sort of feels like Christmas this year.

Steve wakes up as he usually does, slowly and tortuously. He can hear Billy knocking around in the kitchen, and can smell the coffee being made. The thought of coffee makes him sigh a little bit — in a good way.

He keeps listening as he wakes up. He can hear music, too. It's quiet enough that he can't make out what song it is, but he's pretty sure that Billy's listening to  _ Bob Segar, _ which isn't a usual choice for him. He knows that Billy must listen to Bob Segar more than he lets on, too, because he's singing along. He's not very good at singing, either. He sings quietly and always a little off-key, but Steve still thinks it's cute.

It takes Steve twenty minutes or so of laying in bed with his eyes closed for him to muster up the will to not only open his eyes, but to at least sit up. He spends another five minutes sitting on the edge of his bed, yawning and staring at the weird dark spot on the carpet that's in front of his closet. It's a shitty apartment, so he's not surprised that it came with a handful of weird stains.

He doesn't bother doing more than stealing a sweatshirt from Billy's side of the closet, and pulling on a pair of the shorts he used to wear during basketball, at least in terms of getting dressed for the day. Neither of them have plans to be anywhere until the 27th, and even with as fond as Steve feels towards Billy, there's not a goddamn thing in the world that's going to make him actually get dressed today.

He's pulling on a pair of wool socks when he hears Zeppelin running towards the back of the apartment. She's gotten into the habit of greeting both Steve and Billy whenever either of them get up in the mornings.

Steve uses a soft toned baby voice when saying, "Good morning," to the cat, who just rubs up against his leg in response. He slips back into his normal voice, but still speaks softly to tell Zeppelin, "I'm not really a cat person, but for you, I could be," as he's picking her up to hold her in his arms.

He continues carrying her as he walks through the apartment, en route to the kitchen to get himself coffee.

Steve almost crumples when he sees the way Billy perks up upon the two of them making eye contact as he's entering the kitchen. There's breakfast on their kitchen counter, and after Billy gets a chance to kiss Steve once or twice or five times on the mouth, he gestures towards the plate of pancakes. "I made breakfast."

Zeppelin has jumped out of Steve's arms and onto the floor at this point.

"For me?" is what Steve asks. "I mean, I need to put on a bit of weight and all, but I don't know if I can eat four pancakes in one go."

Billy rolls his eyes. He says, "Shut the fuck up," through a laugh and a good natured grin. "It's Christmas. Don't read into it too much."

Later, as Steve's drinking his coffee and eating the two pancakes he'd picked out for himself, sitting across from Billy, he finds himself asking, "You know how when you were little, Christmas was this huge thing?"

Billy shrugs and makes a bit of a face, as if to ask Steve what the hell he's talking about.

"I mean, like... There was some sort of fuckin'...  _ Novelty  _ to Christmas, but when you get older, it starts to lose some of it's novelty. You do know that feeling, right?"

"Yes,  _ Steven _ . I was, in fact, a child at some point. I didn't come out of the womb as a full grown adult. What's your point?"

"Christmas actually sort of feels like Christmas this year. That's my point." Steve shrugs and uses his fork to cut a bite out of his pancakes. “And, I mean. This is kind of…  _ Our  _ first Christmas. Together.” He feels flustered and embarrassed but not especially  _ panicky,  _ which he counts as progress. “Maybe that’s why it’s special.”

“ I think part of it’s that.” Billy extends his hand towards Steve, flicking his fingers, meaning for Steve to place his hand in Billy’s. “I also think part of it is because it’s the first Christmas that either of us have really  _ spent  _ without our families.”

“ Yeah. My parents always find a way to ruin Christmas, honestly.”

“ You are preaching to the choir, my man.”

Steve picks up his coffee mug with his free hand, and clinks it against Billy’s. “Here’s to not having to deal with our parents ruining things.”

*

Things are simply  _ alright  _ until March, until Billy asks Steve why he won’t commit to something more  _ serious  _ with him.

Steve feels exhaustion, the kind of exhaustion he imagines someone would feel late into a traumatic life, creeping into his bones and settling into his soul when he's brushing his teeth and staring down at the extra toothbrush in the cup.

It's Billy's toothbrush.

He brushes his teeth a little harder as a frown settles onto his face and that white hot feeling comes back into his eyes.

Zeppelin is curled up on the floor by his feet.

He thinks back to last night, thinking about what he's so far dubbed as  _ The Fight.  _ It's not as if they haven't fought before, and Steve's sure they'll probably get into another fight within the month, but last night's fight was particularly bad, enough that Billy slept over at Robin's, enough that he still feels guilty this morning.

It’s his own fault, too. Steve knows for a fact that the only reason they had a fight in the first place is because he keeps putting off talking to Billy, about their relationship, about what they are to each other, and because Billy won’t bring it up in fear of making Steve uncomfortable.

As guilty as he feels, he still can't come up with the words to explain precisely  _ why  _ he can't commit to something more  _ serious  _ with Billy.

Later, when he's showered and dressed, as ready for work as he can be and after he feeds Zeppelin and has refilled her water bowl, he isn't surprised to find that the driver's side door on his car has been keyed.

*

Billy doesn't come back until Steve's in bed with Zeppelin curled around his head. He's expecting to hear Billy's bedroom door closing from across the hall after footsteps walk towards the back of the apartment, but there's a moment of hesitation, and he breathes a quiet sigh of relief while Zeppelin lets out loud  _ meow  _ at the sound of Steve's bedroom door creaking open.

"You're not asleep, right?"

"Zep would have woken me up if I was," is what he mumbles back, voice muffled by his pillow.

Billy walks around the bed, to the side that Steve's trying and failing to sleep on, and takes a seat on the side of the bed in the bend of Steve's body.

Steve reaches towards Billy, not realizing how much he's missed the asshole until he feels his skin under his finger tips, running his hand up his arm, coming to rest on his shoulder over his work shirt. He asks, "Are you still mad?"

Billy shakes his head, and bends down to untie his boots.

Steve sort of feels like he might start to tear up at the tone Billy uses when he says, "I wasn't mad, Steve," with another little shake of his head, because it's the tone he uses when he's trying not to start crying. "Upset, but not mad."

"You keyed my car," Steve points out. "That doesn't exactly tell me that you're not mad."

Zeppelin steps down the bed, and when Billy sits up, she walks across his lap, nudging his arm, asking for pets.

Steve can tell that Billy rolls his eyes, whether it's at him or Zeppelin he isn't sure, but he can tell by the way his head moves. "I might've been a little pissed, but no, I'm not mad anymore." A few moments later, of silence and either of them petting Zeppelin, he adds, "I'll pay for the refinish on the door."

"I think I'm gonna leave it. I kind of deserved it," Steve admits.

Their conversation stalls there.

Before standing up, Billy picks up Zeppelin and deposits her back onto Steve's pillow, and Steve's heart feels full when Billy kisses him, because despite the fight, he's still gentle and affectionate.

He also doesn't try to hide the way he watches Billy as he gets undressed, either. Things still feel a little awkward, but Billy winks at him, and Steve rolls his own eyes.

The conversation picks back up once Billy's down to his underwear, after he's crawled into the other side of the bed, scooted up behind Steve to hold him tight and close to himself. Steve lifts his head up long enough for Billy to extend his arm, before letting his head drop, coming to a rest on Billy's bicep.

"If I start talking, are you going to interrupt me?"

"No."

"Okay."

Billy doesn't talk.

Not for a long while.

Steve doesn't say anything either, because he knows that if he did, Billy would tell him he's interrupting.

Steve's nearly asleep when Billy does speak.

He speaks slowly, like he's really been  _ thinking  _ about this, which isn't too far fetched of a concept. "I know that you have a problem with thinking of yourself as gay, and I understand that." He still sounds like he's holding back the emotion in his tone. "You are  _ so  _ important to me. This relationship -- the  _ feelings _ that I have -- those are the kind of feelings that probably aren't ever going to go away. Keying your car wasn't cool, and I'm sorry for doing that. I just really need you to understand that I -- I get frustrated when you won't talk to me about what's going on in your head, 'specially if it has to do with what we got going on. And -- and I'm fine with not being boyfriends, or whatever, because fuck it -- we're not in high school anymore, but sometimes... Sometimes I feel -- I feel like we're not on the same page, emotionally, or what the fuck ever. If we aren't then I -- I kind of need to know, man. I need you to communicate with me."

It's out of Steve's mouth before he has a chance to think about it.  _ "I love you." _

His head hurts from how hard he has to strain to keep from crying immediately, and Billy gets quiet.  _ Really _ quiet.

What ends up leaving Billy's mouth is a very  _ Billy  _ response. "If you're just saying that, I can't promise I'm not going to bust your windshield."

Steve inhales once, fast and sharp, and exhales slowly, breath hitching twice on its way out. Zeppelin curls a little tighter around his head, and he can feel her headbutting him. He hiccups, too, and wipes his eyes on Billy's arm. "I meant it."

"Is there any chance I'm gonna be able to get you to say it again?"

"Maybe for your birthday," Steve jokes. "I need you to know, too, that I'm not -- I'm not trying to shut you out, man. I don't have the words to explain why. It's just that whenever the idea of dating another guy comes up,  _ especially  _ when it's you, my brain just... panics. I mean, I know we're not  _ not  _ together, or whatever, and I can't -- I can't act like we aren't, but labeling it, man, just... It freaks me out, and I don't know how to explain the why of it, or how to make you understand, but beyond getting a therapist, I'm trying to get over it as best as I can."

There's another swath of silence that stretches between them, and Steve can't describe the relief that floods through him when Billy eventually says, "I can live with that."

*

"I think you should move to San Jose with me in the fall."

"I thought you weren't going to ask me to move with you." Steve stares at the slug tracks on the concrete in front of his apartment door. It's a little early in the year for there to be slugs. Maybe they're old tracks. He flicks the cigarette between his fingers but doesn't bring it to his lips. "Why?"

The sun is hanging low in the sky and Steve swears Billy looks golden in the dimming sunlight. He has some sort of  _ look  _ on his face, too, something uncharacteristically solemn. "I know I wasn't going to ask, but I'm asking now."

"My mind's already been made up since October," Steve mutters. "I don't — I don't think I'd feel right not living with you. Why do you want me to go, though?"

Billy takes a half step towards Steve, enough to be able to hold his free hand. He doesn’t look him in the eye, but he does reach for his cigarette, which makes Steve roll his eyes. “Honestly? I want to be with you, and not have to hide it. It’s — it’s different being gay in California than it is here. I also think getting out of Hawkins, at the least, would do you some good.”

“ My parents are gonna have a cow.”

“ Fuck your parents.” Billy gets Steve in the side with his elbow. “No one gets anywhere in life by listening to their parents.”

Steve nods because, yeah, he’s right.

*

Mother’s Day is the first day that Steve has a chance to speak with his parents in person. His mom calls to invite him over for dinner, and he figures it’s going to be the only chance he’s really going to get to speak to them until after he and Billy plan to leave.

He’s not looking forward to the conversation. He knows what they both want out of him — they want him to get a business degree, to work for his dad’s company, and to marry some pretty, well-to-do woman and provide them with two or three grandchildren. He’s heard either of his parents ask him for each of these things — never all at the same time, but through hints and ultimatums handed out over the course of his adolescence. He’s positive that telling them he’s moving to San Jose with his roommate, without a plan in the fucking world on what he wants to do with the rest of his life, isn’t going to blow over very well.

Steve has been to his childhood home three times since moving out, and each time he comes back, it feels less and less like home. It’s different this time, too. The hardwood’s been redone and he figures his mother must have gone on a redecorating spree at some point, because everything is  _ different. _

Things with his parents are different too, he realizes, after the three of them have finished saying grace before eating. He doesn’t remember his mom ever being quite this  _ nice  _ growing up, and he can plainly see that his dad isn’t hiding the distasteful look that sometimes crosses his face after Steve says something. There’s a lull in the conversation about halfway through the meal that precedes his father asking him what he plans to do in the future.

Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t anticipating the question. His  _ future  _ always somehow  _ comes up  _ whenever he’s around his dad.

He answers the question, though. He explains that he’s moving to San Jose in June and the conversation goes downhill from there.

He knows his dad doesn’t like Billy. He doesn’t know  _ exactly _ why, but he’s not as stupid as he lets on and he has a pretty good idea as to why.

He knows his mom doesn’t particularly care for him either, but she’s at least  _ nice. _

Billy is —  _ Billy.  _ He’s larger than life (in a modest way) and unapologetic. Since Steve’s parents have both known him, he hasn’t dressed like he’s trying to prove to everyone that he’s straight, either, and he has a feeling that ties into either of their distaste for him. It  _ bugs  _ him, because Billy means the world to him.

They think it’s a bad idea for him to move so far away, and when he lets slip that he’s moving because Billy’s going to Stanford, and that he’s moving with  _ him,  _ they get mad.

Their anger is — quiet. His mom has a pinched look on her face and his father’s jaw is cocked. Forks and knives keep hitting dishes a little too hard, but they don’t  _ yell,  _ not yet.

Neither of them make eye contact and Steve doesn’t make any attempt to engage either of them in any eye contact either, even as he continues to defend himself. “I’ve been saving anything that I don’t spend on bills or groceries for nearly two years, and Billy’s been saving money too. Between the two of us, I honestly think we’re going to be fine. I know you two don’t see me as an adult, and maybe there’s some preconceived notion that either one of you have any sort of a say in this, but this — this has been the plan since last October. I’m just — I’m not happy here, and an opportunity to start over somewhere else presented itself, so… I’m taking it.”

When they  _ do  _ get to the yelling place, which, really, doesn’t take long, Steve’s quick about grabbing his coat, putting his shoes back on, and getting the fuck out.

*

“How’d they take it?”

This is the second time Billy’s asked this since Steve’s gotten home. The first time he’d asked, Steve had still been fuming, and the second time he asks, they’re taking a bath together. Billy has his hands on Steve’s back, rubbing, under the guise of washing his back for him, because Steve’s a tactile person and — the touch of another person is always comforting, internalized self hatred aside.

Steve’s eyes are closed and he’s sitting with his legs crossed in the water, between Billy’s. “They took it about as well as I thought they were going to.”

“Not well, right?”

“That’d be correct, yes.” 

Billy doesn’t ask him to elaborate. He just waits, patiently, and Steve appreciates it.

“They think I’m foolish for leaving Hawkins,” he says. “And, y’know, they got, like, way more angry as soon as I mentioned we were moving together. They wouldn’t say it outright, but I think — I think they know.”

“They’re your parents,” Billy reasons with him. “My dad’s a piece of shit, but he’s still my dad, and parents — they have a way of just, like, knowing shit about you. Fucker somehow knew I was gay before  _ I  _ even knew.”

“They know shit about you while being insanely obtuse at the same time. It’s a paradox.” Steve sniffles a little bit, and rubs one of his eyes with a few of his fingers. Zeppelin, who’s on the floor next to their bathtub, rolls onto her back with a quiet, soft little noise slipping out of her mouth as she gets comfortable. “I think — I think what they think is that you’re gonna turn me gay.”

“Right, because that’s totally how it works,” he jokes.

“I want.. I mean, man, there’s a part of me that  _ wants _ to tell them, because they’re my parents. I know we’re not close, or whatever, but — I just gotta wonder if they’d still love me. I feel stupid for wanting their approval so bad. I shouldn’t want it—”

Billy cuts him off to say, “It’s a normal thing to want, Steve.”

“I know, I know. Realistically, they’d probably beat my ass with a bible if I ever told them.”

Billy leans back, and pulls Steve with him, wrapping his arms around his torso. “If they’re truly religious, they’ll love you regardless. My mom… She’s Catholic. Before she left, she tried instilling this, like, sense of love and tolerance in me. I think — I think she knew, y’know, that I’m gay, because whenever my dad would give me shit, she’d remind me that, like, religion’s no excuse for being an asshole, pretty much.”

“My parents aren’t super religious, but they bust out the god-fearing shit once in awhile if they’re trying to prove a point, or trying to make me feel like shit, or whatever. Me being gay would probably warrant a sermon from my dad.”

Billy snorts.

“He can cheat on my mom and literally defile the sanctity of marriage, but, y’know — he draws the line at me potentially being gay, and you being my gay lover.”

“I’ll take your last name if we ever get married, just to get under his skin,” Billy mumbles.

“The pastor’s gonna ask anyone if they object, and he’s gonna raise his hand and say,  _ ‘It was Adam and Eve, not Billy and Steve.’” _

Billy laughs. It’s not a hysterical sort of laugh, but Steve can feel the way it rumbles in his chest from where he’s laying on him.

Steve smiles to himself. “It’s bold of me to assume he’d show up in the first place, though.”

“Still. It was a funny joke.”

*

It takes about a month to get settled into the San Jose apartment, and for both of them to get jobs. Steve bar tends at the gay bar across town most nights, and makes enough in tips to cover most of their bills. 

Billy finds work at the diner down the street from their apartment, busing tables in the evenings, and sometimes he volunteers at the ACLU. He  _ blossoms,  _ to put it simply. Steve thought he blossomed after moving out of Neil’s house, but that was  _ nothing  _ compared to the shift in his mood as soon as they’re in California.

Billy was right, about the fact that it’s different being gay in California than it is in Indiana. Things are easier. They don’t get as many weird looks in public. Steve doesn’t have to worry about the wrong person seeing the way he and Billy interact, and word getting back to either of their parents. 

Maybe it’s because of the change in elevation, but Steve feels like he can breathe. He feels  _ normal.  _ Sometimes he still has problems with accepting affection and love from Billy, and sometimes he’s hesitant about returning said love and affection, but he thinks that being vaguely uncomfortable once in awhile beats having full on ugly crying anxiety attacks over it.

Zeppelin seems happier, too. There’s a window in their living room with enough of a sill for her to sit on, and there’s a screen on it, so Steve leaves the window open for her when the weather isn’t too hot or too cold.

Truly, he thinks they’re all happier just because they aren’t living in a fucking basement in small-town Indiana anymore.


End file.
